The not so Glamorous World of Albion: Book One
by Zachery S. Mills
Summary: Andrey a middle class young man from Bowerstone finds himself thrown into a different life. Rated for things later to come. Alcohol abuse, sex, suicide, depression, prostituition. Andrey and several other characters are gay, if you don't like don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own fable, duh. **I did not create any of the creatures or regions in this story. But the Onderdonks are all mine. So back off.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Andrey Vlad Onderdonk shuffled slowly behind his cheap father. His father's pistol had broken earlier in the day, and being the cheap man he was known to be had refused to pay the, how had he put it, 'surpassingly outrageous' price the Bowerstone blacksmith had requested as payment. Now the duo walked silently in the darkness of Bower Lake in search of a traveling weapons trader. Andrey, and his father, knew quite well that the Bower Lake area had recently been a hotspot for bandit activity, yet his father would rather risk the life of himself and his only son to save a couple gold on a pistol, he would later use to protect his produce stall from any shady characters that wished to rob it.

"Father, is this necessary." Whined Andrey, curling his ample pink lips into a scowl, "After all who in their right mind would rob a produce stall."

"Sick people inhabit our world, Son." Replied Father is an oddly joyous tone for an unarmed man in a bandit infested region of Albion. "Just last week I heard the Cow and Corset was robbed by some nutter, the loon stole every peanut in the place."

Andrey sighed heavily and eyed the ground. His unkept golden curls bounced with each step the young man took, and his icy blue eye's darted from side to side, scanning the land for bandits, and hobbes. Not that the seventeen year-old knew what a hobbe looked like, this being his first time out of Bowerstone, ever. The cold autumn air nipped at the boys ivory skin, his cuffed overcoat providing little protection from the howling winds. He pulled the coat tighter around his angular body and began to step quicker to catch up to his father, who, for a man of his age, moved remarkably quick.

"Can we eat?" Asked the younger man in an irrated voice, "We've been searching for hours and have yet to spot a single trader. The bandits probably killed them all off by now!"

"Andrey, my boy." Reprimanded Father, "That is no way to be, your mother and I raised you to be an optimist. And you are being quite the opposite."

"Are we to eat before we starve to death?" Hissed Andrey, he had become quite agitated by his fathers optimism in the past few hours.

---

Fathers face took on a ghoulish white glow as he sat across the fire from his child. His aged eyes, which at the moment appeared lost in thought, sunk deep into his almost skeletal face, surrounded by dark rings from lack of sleep. Snow-white whisp of hair graced his pale cranium, and a thin line of hair followed his jaw line to a pointed chin. He was only middle aged and had already taken the looks of someone way beyond his own years. His eyes crashed into liveliness seconds before he spoke, "Well eat, I didn't build this fire and cook you a scrumptious meal for you to stare it down!"

Andrey eyed the bowl he clutched in his hands with distaste, his father must have had a very different ideal of what the word scrumptious meant. Boiled celery and carrots plus a meager block of mushy tofu didn't seem very scrumptious at all. "I see you brought the stall with us father," Moaned the boy, "Why don't you ever visit the meat stall, or even the pie stall?"

"Those thoughts are so... corrupt!" Responded Father in shock, "Do you truthfully believe I became the perfect picture of health I am today by indulging in such dark delights."

"Perfect picture of health?" Andrey laughed at his fathers misconception. "Have you looked in a mirror lately, and I don't mean the one Uncle Andy gave you that he bought off that traveling trader in Old Town."

"Yes, I am as fit and nimble as any young man, even yourself." Grinned Father, his smile missing teeth here and there, the few that remained dotted with blackness, "And that mirror was a thoughtful gift, it works wonders."

"Of course! It works wonders," Andreys voice dripped with sarcasm, "in the dark!"

"You are being very disrespectful!" Bellowed his father is an almost humourous rage, "You were not raised to behave in such a manner. What would your mother say?"

"Nothing Father, she would say absolutely nothing!" Andrey had become angered by his fathers statement. "She's dead! You and I both known this well, and I do not appreciate you using her as some sort of punishment everytime I disappoint you!"

Andrey's mother had died years ago while visiting her own mothers tomb in the Bowerstone Cemetery. She visited the place several times a year and had decided to visit during the night on that particular day. The guard that had informed Andrey and his father of her death had said that a witness had spotted the late Mrs. Onderdonk in a heated debate with a talking stone, just moments before a gaggle of Hollow Men erupted from the ground and ended the poor womens life. From that day on Mr. Onderdonk had forbid Andrey, who had been thirteen at the time, from setting foot inside the Bowerstone Cemetery.

"Do not take that ungrateful tone with me!" Mr. Onderdonk stood and quickly sidestepped the fire to stand above Andrey. "I have done my best to raise you as a widowed father, and Hobbe's will fly before I ever let you speak to me in such an arrogant tone!"

Father bent hastily and pulled Andrey from the ground by his hair, maybe those veggies had done him some good. The boys stew, now cold, fell to the ground, the bowl shattering on impact. Mr. Onderdonk's eyes had taken on new life, a fire burned in them as he stared, with rage, at his son. The night seemed to become absolutely quiet and seconds passed before Mr. Onderdonk landed a single blow in the center of Andrey's face. After which the man stepped away and returned to his seat at the oppisite side of the dying fire.

Andrey felt the warm trickle of blood as it slowly fled from his nostril. The fact that his father had hit him taking minutes before fully registering. He spoke quickly, shocked by the recent occurrence, "You struck me! I hate you, bastard!" Andrey turned on his heels and stormed away. "I hope you die out here, old man!" He spat over his shoulder as he briskly moved in the general direction of Bowerstone Market. It would be a couple of hours before he reached the trail leading out of Bower Lake.

---

The sight that greeted Andrey as he approached Bowerstone Road dismayed him. An odd assortment of wooden objects had been strewn over the road, barring his path. A single guard stood atop a wood platform, pacing back and forth muttering words to himself too quitely for Andreys ears to pick up. The boy loudly cleared his throat to obtain the attention of the man. The guard jumped in surprise and examined the surrounding area before his sights landed on Andrey. He spoke with a steady voice, full of self rightous authority, "Sorry citizen, but this road has been closed do to recent bandit activity!"

Andrey stared back at the man in confusion. "But officer I live in Bowerstone! I just need to go home!"

"Likely story." Accused the guard in a smug voice, "You think I was born yesterday do'ya!

"I've lived in Bowerstone my whole life, you shop at my father's stall all the time." Countered the boy, frustrated with the stupidity of law enforcement in Albion. "I'm Andrey Onderdonk, my father is Dmitriy Onderdonk."

"I ain't ever heard of any Onderdonks in Bowerstone." The guards face contorted into an expression of confusion.

"Your an imbicile!" Screamed Andrey, "When the hell did this wall even come about. It wasn't here when we left Bowerstone."

"We?" The man looked around even more confused then before, "There is only one of ya' now."

"My father was with me," Explained Andrey. "He's off looking for a weapons trader."

"Bowerstone's gots its own blacksmith." Laughed the guard, "No need to go looking for one in a bandit infested region."

"My father is cheap." He confessed.

"Likely story!" The man accused again, it was very obvious this mans vocabulary was limited. "Did'ja kill your father then, you foul bandit."

"Did a rock troll knock you over then head one too many times?" Growled Andrey, "I ain't no bandit."

"Well now that I think about it..." He began.

"That was a rhetorical question." Scoffed the blonde astounded by this man's ignorance, "Now answer my first question, when did this wall come to be?"

"Don't be callin' me names. If anyones a rhetorical its you." Andrey stared at the man, refusing to even respond to such an ignorant statement. "But if you must know we put it up an hour ago. Now begone bandit!"

Andrey knew that any amount of pleading wasn't going to get him past the gate and into Bowerstone, so he accepted defeat and entered a patch of nearby woods. He hoped that maybe he could find a cavern or maybe even a cabin at which to rest in over night. The area had become considerably colder since he had left his father and the warmth of the fire far behind so Andrey bent to the ground to gather small sticks and logs to later use for a fire once he reached a descent spot to spend the night. He moved at a constant pace, stopping now and then to pick up firewood, he slowed once he arrived in a small clearing. Rustling could be heard from a bush, Andrey, not wanting to take any chances, began to move quickly away from the source of the disturbance, but was stopped when a squat little man jumped from a tree.

The man was chubby and incredably ugly. He wore very little clothing, aside from a boot on his head, and a pauper skirt around his waist he was naked. In one of his grubby little hands he held a rusty blunderbuss which he pointed at Andrey. He let loose a demonic screech from his sharp toothed mouth cueing two other little monsterous men to jump from nearby bushes.

Andrey turned to face the others in horrors. He knew now what the little men were, Hobbes. In his new found sense of fear he let the wood drop from his arms, but luckily enough one of the heavier logs crashed onto the head of one of the smaller creatures, a crunching of bone was heard and the little man fell limply to the ground. Andrey took advantage of the moment and dropped to his hand and knees, just in time too, the Hobbe wielding the gun had decided to shoot in the direction of were Andreys head had been moments before. He grabbed for the poor excuse of a mace the now dead monster held and found it harder then he thought to pry it from the foul beast iron grip, but after seconds of tugging the weapon was his own.

As the Hobbe holding a large axe jumped into the air to land a dangerous blow Andrey rolled away escaping his own death, he looked back, the axe of his attacker was lodged in the head of the gunner who took off into the woods screaming in fear, blood now covering his face and most likely blinding him. Andrey jumped to his feet awkwardly holding his trophy the lone Hobbe screamed once more and ran in the direction of Andrey baring his teeth, which appeared to be covered in dry blood. As the creature quickly approached his foot became snarled in a tree root and he fell face first into the ground. The boy looked down in surprise at the beast clumsiness, and quickly lifted his weapon above his head, before letting it crash into the back of the monsters skull, ending its life and causing blood to splatter onto his own boots.

Andrey, now exhausted, fell to his knees. The world around him spun, the sky switching places with the ground and the trees bluring into one off colored mass. His head throbbed in pain, had he been hit, he couldn't remember. His eyes watered and he moaned one last time before falling to the ground, asleep.

* * *

Please R&R.

This is my first real shot at a fable fanfic. It was also my first time ever writing a fight scene. How did I do?

I will be writing more. After all this is only chapter one!


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry its been so long since I've updated, I've been busy.

But from now on I will update every two to three weeks.

Please enjoy this second chapter!

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own fable or any of its characters. The only thing that belongs to me is the Onderdonks.

**Chapter Two**

Andrey awoke several hours later and to his surprise two gypsy's stood above him, one a plump women and the other a scrawny man. Even more surprising yet was the fact that the three of them were all encased in a cage. The young blond sat up straight and the male gypsy was the first to speak. "Its about time you came about sleepy head."

"Who are you?" Andrey asked as he rubbed the back of his head, only to stop prematurely due to the severe pain that shook him to the core.

"Watch it there!" The women spoke, "You got a right nasty bump on the back of your noggin."

"I'm Jeremiah," It was apparently the mans turn to speak again, "And this," He pointed to the women, "Is Reg."

"Its Regina!" She protested.

"What is your name?" Jeremiah asked, paying no attention to Regina's complaint.

"Andrey Onderdonk," Andrey extended his arm which Jeremiah grabbed and, instead of shaking, used it to haul the boy to his feet.

"Onderdonk? Odd sort of name ain't it?" Jeremiah asked to no one in particular.

"Shove off," Chastised Regina, "How are you feeling? Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving!" He moaned.

"Thats a pity, cause we ain't got no food. They tend not to feed us." Reg apologized.

"They?" Andrey asked in confusion.

"The bandits," Regina stated bluntly as she gestured towards a cabin that stood several yards away. Andrey surveyed his surroundings. The cage was in the middle of a small clearing, which was surrounded by a spiked fence. A fire burned opposite the cabin, and surrounding the fire sat a dozen or so Bandits, each stuffing thier own faces and telling each other vulgar stories. Opposite the cage sat a few dilapidated shelters. Barrels and crates littered the clearing as well.

"I don't understand." Andrey's voice showing his concern.

"What is there to not understand?" The older man chortled from behind the boy.

"This is a slaver camp," Reg stated flatly, "Thag's slaver camp. He intends to sell us to Lucian."

"What!" The blond swiveled around quickly to face the gypsy duo. "Why would Lucian need slaves? Why would he deal with such scum?"

"I dunno." The two answered in unison.

Andrey turned back to the bandits who huttled around the fire. They sat joyously enjoying thier, most likely, ill-gotten gains, while Andrey and the odd couple starved. He cleared his throat in an attempt at getting the attention of Thag's men, but they seemed too intoxicated to notice. He tried again, and still no reaction.

"Hey idiots!" Andrey screamed, all subtleness evaporating quickly.

The men all, in unison, turned to face the soon to be slaves. A portly one near the center of the group spoke first, "Lookie there fella's the pretty boy is finally awake."

"I demand you release me." The blonds voice filled with dignity.

The next to speak was shockingly thin, and rat faced. "Did'ja 'ear that boys, he demands it!"

The group laughed, and Ratty stood and crossed to the cage. His hand grasping the pistol at his waist. "You really tink your 'n any position to be demanding tings boy?"

Andrey simply shook his head 'no.'

Ratty stuck his bony, claw-like hand between the bars and grabbed Andrey's jaw, pulling his face against the bars. Ratty leaned in close, and his rancid breath filled the young boys nostrils. "We," he motioned towards the other men, "Will be doin' the demanding. Now shud it!"

Andrey was then pushed, forcibly, against the bars on the opposite side of the cage. His head thudded against the metal and his head throbbed from the before mentioned 'bump' on the back of the kids 'noggin'.

Roars of laughter blasted again from the horrid men around the fire, but the laughter was cut short when a man with the horns of a buck atop his head appeared in the doorway of the cabin. Ratty's face looked grim, all the color had vanished and left a man as white as a sheet. The others turned quickly to once again watching the fire. The horned man spoke in a harsh and powerful voice. "Eddie!"

Eddie, which Andrey now assumed was Ratty's real name turned to the man, and smoke in a fumbling tone, "Yes Thag?"

"Do not taunt the merchandise, or I'll taunt your skull with my fist." Thag spoke wickedly, "Understand."

"Yessir!" Eddie bowed his head and stepped back a few paces only to trip over his own feet, causing the prisoners to laugh.

"Quiet in there!" Thag kicked a stone towards the cage, successfully silencing the merchandise, "And feed 'em already, Eddie. They look weak."

"Yessir," whispered Eddie again, as he bowed just like before. Thag grunted in response before vanishing back into the cabin. Eddie crossed to the fire and grabbed a few roundish objects from a barrel, after which he proceeded to chuck the objects at the cage. Andrey was struck in the head by one of the flying edibles and it softly landed in his lap. He lifted it to his eyes, so that he could see it in the faint lighting, and was glad to see a raw potato. Just yesterday he would have turned his nose up to the simple root, but currently he was starving and so gobbled it up in just three bites. Andrey surveyed the cage floor for more of the puny vitals, and the gypsys did the same. A dozen or so potatoes littered the floor, Andrey helped himself to just two more potatoes and left the rest to the gypsy's who he assumed had gone longer without a meal.

The bandits continued there earlier behavior and ignored the prisoners. The gypsy's had gotten into a heated debate. Andrey decided that the debate was of little interest and leaned against the cage's bars. Although he had slept throughout the night he decided that under the current circumstances there was nothing else to fill his time and proceeded to drift into a nap.

---

When Andrey opened his eyes next it was dark. The gypsy's both stood leaning against the cage's bars their eyes fixated on what Andrey did not know. The boy wiped the last traces of sleep from his eyes and crawled between his 'roommates' to see what was of such interest. The bandits all spoke in hushed voices and scurried around the clearing, and every now and then a series of soft thuds could be heard from the large wooden opening of the spiked fence. The bandits continued to scurry around and the knocking continued aswell for a good ten minutes. Andrey grew irritated as the group continued to pretend to be 'not home' and decided he had had enough.

"Well who is it?" He asked to the nearest bandit, his voice louder then necessary.

Eddie, who was currently pacing back and forth near the fire looked alarmed and glared at the blond. "Quiet!"

"Well who is it?" Andrey asked again.

"Shud it now or I swear," Eddie started but was soon cut off by a voice that came from the wooden entrance.

"Its Dash," The rough voice yelled, "I wanna see muh brother."

Eddie cursed under his breath. He and the rest of Thag's crew seemed shaken by the information. A small man, who stood closest to Thag's cabin turned and slowly walked up the few steps. He politely knocked on the door frame, which was soon filled with the hulking figure of Thag.

"What do'ya want?" Thag's voice boomed across the clearing. The small man shook slightly before continuing on.

"Well, sir." He seemed to have trouble finding the right words, "We 'ave a visitor. Your... Well, your brother."

Thag stomped his booted foot and slammed the man to the ground in anger. From his waist he lifted a pistol and aimed it at the man, who quivered at his leaders feet.

"In this camp we don't talk about that queer." His statement final.

From behind the entrance Dash spoke up, "That's no way to speak about your baby brother."

"I 'ave no brother!" Screamed Thag, "you ain't welcome 'ear."

"I am not leaving until you hear me out bubby." Dash's voice was considerably more friendly and playful then his older siblings.

Thag stomped across the clearing, and stopped a couple yards short of the entrance. He returned his pistol to his waist and from his back retrieved a rifle. The bandits were at the moment silent and all eyes watched the horned man.

"Open the gates," Thag demanded, and his men awoke from their stupor and quickly began to open the large double door. Once the doors had fully opened they revealed an eccentric looking man. He was of medium height, and currently he wore no shirt and his washboard abs were clearly visible, his face was mostly hidden behind clunky goggles and messy brown hair, but a strong jaw-line granted him a masculine presence. Thag lifted his rifle and took aim at the face of his baby brother.

"Really?" Questioned Dash, his face worry free.

"Really." Thag responded and pulled the trigger, but before the bullet left the gun Dash had vanished, leaving his brother stunned. Just moments later Dash appeared again behind his elders back.

"Now," Dash spoke up causing his brother to jump from the shock, "I'd like to purchase a slave.

* * *

Well thats chapter two. Please R&R.


End file.
